Project Horntail
by Spr0ut810
Summary: Harry is tried by the Wizengamot. How is the department of mysteries involved? AU


I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form.

Harry jolted awake. He was restrained in a chair. He glanced around and saw he was bound by steel chains in the centre of a large room, surrounded by men and women seated on tiered benches. The men and women on his left and right all wore identical purple robes. There were only three men seated in front of him. The man on the right wore purple robes with a gold marking on the chest, while the man on the left wore plain red robes. The man seated in the centre wore black robes with silver accenting.

_So I'm on trial by the Wizengamot, not ideal but it could be worse,_ he thought, going over the plan for this possibility quickly. _Say as little as possible and don't be rude_ he mused on the lack of complexity in the plan and hoped the old maxim 'the simpler, the better' held true.

"Criminal trial of the first of August of the year one thousand nine hundred and forty five," the man in the centre intoned gravely. "Interrogators: Hadrian Elias Prewett, Minister for Magic; Bob Linnaeus Ogden, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Kolton Oliver Vector, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Court scribe, Bartemius Crouch."

"The accused is charged with possession of a ministry regulated substance and the murder of Tom Marvolo Riddle," the man Harry now knew to be the minister continued. "How do you plead?" he asked, looking directly at Harry for the first time.

"B-M-Z-0-0-4-H-K-7," Harry replied confidently, looking the Minister in the eye. He ignored the whispers his unexpected response caused.

The Ministers look fixed him with a stare for several long seconds before saying, "Let the record show the accused has identified himself as an Unspeakable using a code which is changed on a daily basis and as..." he was drowned out by dozens of people speaking in unrestrained tones. He raised his wand and set off three loud blasts. "And as such only the Head of the Department of Mysteries may question him; this courtroom is now sealed until further notice," he finished when he had silence.

"Auror Moody, you are to incapacitate anybody who attempts to leave this room before the Minister allows. You are authorised to use any force needed with the exception of the unforgivable curses," Mr. Ogden ordered.

"Yes sir," a voice from behind Harry responded.

"Thank you Bob," said the Minister before returning his eyes to Harry. "I presume you wish to wait to proceed until Madame Brocklehurst arrives?" he asked.

"You presume correctly Minister," Harry affirmed.

"And you cannot give us any idea as to what to expect?" Mr. Ogden asked.

Harry answered with a commiserating smile and a single shake of his head. He shifted slightly, the only movement allowed by the chains binding him, on his chair. He swept his gaze over the witches and wizards seated on either side of him. He was being stared at by all of them. He recognised traits from some of his friends; a nose here, the angle of a cheekbone there, black hair peppered with grey sticking up in all directions. He made, what he hoped, was an imperceptible double take. Black hair peppered with grey sticking up in all directions, on the head of a man who looked like an older version of himself. _Hmm, that could be interesting_ he thought amusedly, _"Hi, I'm the son of your as yet unborn son."_

He recognised a few in the crowd. Madam Marchbanks looked considerably less ancient than when she invigilated his OWLs, though that wasn't to say she wasn't still old. Elphias Doge sat beside a man he wasn't expecting to see present. _He should either be raving drunk or nursing the hangover of all hangovers. It's only two days since he beat a dark lord for Merlin's sake._ Albus Dumbledore sat watching him curiously and though his hair was now auburn and his face less lined, his eyes still held the same power to draw Harry in. His thoughts were interrupted by a door slamming behind him.

"Thank you for joining us so quickly Madame Brocklehurst," the Minister said while looking behind Harry.

"Of course Minister, may I get started?" she asked brusquely as she walked into Harry's view. It was strange to see his boss as a young woman instead of as an elder of the ministry. At only twenty-nine she was the youngest department head in ministry history. Her lips were pressed together and her brow was scrunched but her violet eyes were bright with curiosity.

"You may," the Minister replied.

"Identify yourself," she ordered tersely without further preamble.

"Project Horntail," Harry answered and had the pleasure of seeing her eyebrows jump up and her bottom jaw hang loose for a moment.

"Successful?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes ma'am," he replied with a grin.

She matched his grin briefly before composing herself and turning to the Minister. "You need to enforce a secrecy oath over anybody who has seen or heard about this man," she said to the Minister.

The Minister looked from her to Harry and back again before sighing and touching his wand to the desk in front of him "I hereby activate the secrecy oaths of all ministry personnel who have had any form of contact with this criminal trial."

"We will need veritaserum to establish what are sure to be unbelievable truths," Madame Brocklehurst stated.

"You know what this is all about?" Mr. Ogden asked.

"I know enough to know it will be difficult for some of you to believe this man even with veritaserum," she responded.

"Very well; Auror Moody, administer three drops of veritaserum," Mr. Ogden ordered.

Harry heard footsteps behind him. "Tilt your head back, open your mouth, swallow," Moody said gruffly as he used a dropper to give him veritaserum.

He immediately felt a calm haze descend over his senses.

"What is your name?" a voice asked.

"Harry James Potter," he answered.

"What is your date of birth?" a voice asked.

"July thirty-first, nineteen-eighty," he answered.

"What is project Horntail?" a voice asked.

"A long standing research project in the Department of Mysteries," he answered.

"What is the aim of project Horntail?" a voice asked.

"To develop a method of sending someone back in time with no limitation on how far," he answered.

"Have you travelled back in time using information discovered in project Horntail?" a voice asked.

"I have," he answered.

"What year did you travel from?" a voice asked.

"Two-thousand and six," he answered.

"Why did you travel back in time?" a voice asked.

"I was ordered to by the Head of the Department of Mysteries and the Minister for Magic," he answered.

"Why were you so ordered?" a voice asked.

"So I could kill Tom Marvolo Riddle while he was vulnerable," he answered.

"Why was it necessary to kill Tom Marvolo Riddle?" a voice asked.

"He irreparably damaged our world," he answered.

"In what way did Tom Marvolo Riddle damage our world?" a voice asked.

"There were only eight muggleborns over the age of four left alive. Dozens of families became extinct in the male line. Those families that didn't become extinct in the male line still suffered losses. Our gene pool became so small that the only way to survive would require breeding between close family members within a few generations," he answered.

"Had Tom Marvolo Riddle committed any crimes before July thirty-first, nineteen forty-five?" a voice asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"What crimes had Tom Marvolo Riddle committed July thirty-first, nineteen forty-five?" a voice asked.

"He ordered a Basilisk to kill Myrtle Andrews, he murdered Tom Riddle Sr., he murdered Edward Riddle; he murdered Anna Riddle and he created two horcruxes," he answered.

The haze lifted from his senses as quickly as it had descended. He happily realised he was no longer bound with chains and rolled his shoulders in celebration. He looked around and noticed a majority of the people present were wide-eyed. Madame Brocklehurst was not one of those. She had what Harry liked to call, a Hermione-ish look about her, as though she might just scoop the necessary thoughts straight out of his head. He realised he had a long debriefing ahead of him.

"Harry James Potter, we find that your actions were in defence of the British Ministry of Magic and its subjects. As such you are granted a pardon for all crimes committed. However, be aware that this body may not be so lenient regarding vigilantism in the future. The records of this trial are to be sealed until the year two-thousand and seven. The courtroom is now unsealed, dismissed," the Minister ordered.

Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled with relief. He hadn't fancied spending years in Azkaban. His moment of celebration was interrupted by Madame Brocklehurst grabbing his arm and pulling him off his seat.

"So that seemed to go fairly smoothly," he said.

"You only think that because you were under the influence of veritaserum while people were arguing that you are too dangerous to be free and should be sent to Azkaban for life," she replied.

He swallowed nervously as he had the distinct impression he wouldn't have regained full consciousness until after he was safely locked up, if imprisonment had been the course decided upon.

"You need a new identity, Potter isn't such a common name," she said.

"Harry James Evans will do," he assured her.

"You also need to get a new wand as Auror Moody was a bit too enthusiastic in capturing you," she informed him.

"I'm sure Ollivander will have something just for me," he observed.

"Do you intend to work in my department again?" she asked while she scrutinized his face.

"I actually thought I'd apply for the vacant Defence against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts," he answered.

"Humph, well good luck with that," she offered with near tangible disappointment.

"Thank you; would you care to join me for dinner this evening Adrianna?" he inquired.

"Are you asking me on a date?" she asked as she swept her straight black hair back over her shoulder.

"I am," he affirmed.

"You could be my grandson for all I know," she pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"I could be but I'm not," he assured her. "And you used to always bemoan the fact that you weren't sixty-four years younger," he teased.

"Alright one dinner, but no more jokes about my age," she said with a smile.


End file.
